


Lemme be your good... Everythang

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU - No ZA, Aftercare, Collars, Crying, Dog Play, Dom Daryl, Dom/sub relationship, Established Relationship, Kinklife, M/M, Married Rickyl, Orgasm Delay, Pet Names, Rutting, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sort Of, Spanking, Sub Rick, Toys, also Praise kink, flogger, tags to be added as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 08:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16364843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: Every day, Rick has a choice to make. One item among those Daryl has put on the table. One toy standing for one setting of play they will then indulge in for the day. This is how they work. How they love on each other.





	Lemme be your good... Everythang

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JeromeSankara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/gifts), [HigherMagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigherMagic/gifts).



> This will be a collection of scenes/days from Rick and Daryl's life of kink. I will add tags as the different parts get written and each kink will be the title of the chapter.  
> Thank you to HigherMagic for inspiring me with her oh so great Hannigram "Now, What should we do next?" if you're into this fandom and haven't checked it out you def should!  
> And to Jer (<3) for providing me with a great list of kinks and being awesome in general <3 
> 
> I thought this would make for a lighter series in parallel with my on-going "The Notebook" so here is some SMUT and fluff guys!
> 
> I was too impatient for the amazing Tweedo to be able to work her magic on this one so this work is unbeta'd.
> 
> Anyway, Enjoy!

Rick’s eyes light up as he sees what’s on the dining table. What’s waiting for him there. Every morning Daryl picks up about three items from the special case. Every morning Rick has to choose. Choose what flavor he’ll let himself be eaten at for the day.

Rick looks up from where he was staring at the table and dives into the blue eyes of his partner. The other man is leaning on the kitchen counter just a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest, with this special glint to him, this way he has to look back at Rick that’s all warmth and love and ever-present desire. 

Rick smiles, walks a few more feet into the room but no more. He doesn’t go to Daryl, doesn’t walk to him, doesn’t kiss him good morning. That’s not the way they work. Never has been. No. Rick has to choose first, set the tone, the pace of the day, pick his shading. 

So, he looks back to the table, his smile still here even if Daryl can just see how it softens to a subtler curve as the man focuses on the items and the inner desires each would fulfill should he choose them over the others.

Along the center of the table, three items are carefully placed like a table runner would be, perfectly spaced out so that each stands out as its own thing, offered to Rick’s eyes first, hands when his choice is made. Rick shivers.

A tangle of silver chains. A light-green plastic and rubber pacifier. A smooth black leather collar. 

Each pull at different strings and Rick resists the need to clasp the collar around his neck, pop the pacifier in his mouth and wrap his hands in the chains all at once. Each are enticing his various personas, all yearning to come out and submit: bowing down, forehead to the ground and ass in the air; go to Daryl and wait for the man to pick him up and carry him to their bed; curling down at his husband’s feet waiting for a scratch at the back of his skull.

Only he knows Daryl will be gone for his five hour shift at the restaurant in less time than he needs to comfortably get into some of these scenes and that’s not acceptable. Because even when Rick regresses to a more childlike mind-pattern, even when he can no longer talk from sensory overload and stings all up his ass and thighs, even then, he is nothing but a perfectionist. 

Tentatively, hand trembling with anticipation, Rick blinks up to Daryl before he reaches for the ebony black collar, takes it into both his hands. Now he can go to Daryl, now he can press up to him and try and feel every inch of his husband as the other man circles him with arms made out of literal tree trunks. Rick breathes the scent of him deep into his lungs, collar dangling from his hands and he sighs. “Kiss me?”

And Daryl does, unwrapping himself from Rick and turning him around so he is the one pressed against the counter this time.

Their lips meet and their fire is there, within the simple reach of one tongue for the other, behind fluttering eyelids and gentle breathing. They kiss slow and deep in the morning, rediscovering each other each time. It’s a long kiss, the morning one and neither of them could ever go without it. There’s nothing like home and that’s the first step of the day going to reassert the other as being just that: more than they would ever be able to find from four walls and a roof. Skin and teeth. Lips and sighs. A melody that’s only complete as Daryl pries the collar away from Rick’s hands and fastens it to his neck instead.

“My beautiful, sweet puppy,” Daryl drawls, “You’re going to be a good boy for me? Wait till I get back to take care of this?” he puts a hand to the distinct bone in Rick’s pants, traces the outline of his cock with fleeting fingers before grabbing it possessively through the denim. “You know this is mine, huh, can’t touch it, right?” he presses harder, fingers going tight on his husband’s steeled shaft and waits for Rick’s answer.

It is not words he’s expecting as he waits for Rick to find his bearings back. No, he lost the ability to speak the moment his collar hugged his neck, the clasping of its buckle the zipper to his mouth. And so it’s the whine, deep, low-pitched whine Rick gives him that makes Daryl nod and release the man’s cock, hands going to fist in his shirt next.

“We’re gonna rid you of all this and then I’ll go.” Daryl nuzzles Rick’s jaw, licks a broad stripe over his throat and relishes in the goosebumps he can feel under his tongue once he gets to the other side of his husband’s muscular neck. “C’mon.” 

Tugging on the other man’s hand, Daryl leads them both to the living-room. He takes a seat on the couch and guides Rick by his belt loops until he is standing between his legs. Only then does he begin unbuttoning the few buttons Rick had closed before coming down, he lets the shirt slide down Rick’s shoulders and to the floor, indulging himself for a minute of caressing his husband’s chest with the utmost care. 

“You make such a pretty boy, Darlin’.” he whispers before he licks all the way down from Rick’s belly button to the button of his jeans. A swift movement of his wrist and it’s undone as well, the zipper following not long after. 

He gets up then, passes both his hands under the waistbands of both the jeans and Rick’s underwear, hands going flat over the man’s cheeks, cupping his ass teasingly before he pushes his clothes down to his ankles and steps away. 

Daryl’s eyes rake over his husband’s body and he just knows it will be hell to go to work knowing Rick will be here, like this, waiting. “Get out of these.” he points to the pool of denim and cotton, and Rick does.

“Hands and knees now, show me what a good boy you are,” his voice is firm, and the low, painful whine that escapes Rick’s lips is reward enough for his efforts. The sight of him makes Daryl buzz with arousal: getting to his position on the carpet, cock jutting down, hard between his legs, and mouth red all over from all the sounds he likely kept locked while he was getting undressed. Delicious.

“That’s good, perfect, look at me, pup.” Daryl puts a rough hand to Rick’s neck and grins when he sees Rick’s eyes are already glazed over with intense pleasure. 

“I gotta go n--” Rick growls lowly, “None of that!” Daryl grabs the man’s chin in a firm grip, “I’m goin’ and you’ll behave. Understood?” 

Rick’s lashes batt slow and unapologetic but Daryl just smiles. “You won’t make me miss work by bein’ disobedient, you’re just addin’ to your future punishment, you gotta know that by now.” 

Daryl can see the hard trembling of Rick’s hands as he leans on them, ever so subtly raising his ass higher in the air and he caresses the man’s face before finally letting go. 

“Be a good boy.” he closes the front door and locks it behind him. He’ll have to wait in the car for a while before he can get inside his workplace but it’s worth it. So, so worth it. And thank god still, for the apron he has to wear.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. Rick’s mind is buzzing because his heart is pounding, because his skin is sweating, because his fingers are trembling in the mittens he's decided to wear when Daryl left so he can keep his promise and behave. But his cock, it is throbbing. It is painful and there isn't a moment when he isn't aware of it, of every  _ inch _ of erected tissue and burning nerves. With every second that passes and every drop of unsolicited precum falling to the floor, keeping his promise becomes more difficult.

Rick has tried close to everything, from pinching himself practically everywhere to thinking of any and every disgusting thing he's ever seen on that show he watches on TV. 

Nothing works. The pinching pleases his masochistic side way too much and the gross images just can't stay long enough in his mind before they’re replaced with much more pleasurable ones of Daryl thoroughly fucking him to the ground. 

Nothing works and he wants to pull at his hair, bite himself till he bleeds...but the mittens make for him to be incapable of grabbing anything and his mouth is already bloody from all the uncontrollable moaning he’s tried to make disappear.

_ “How long has it been?”  _ he wonders and finds he has no answer. 

When they play this particular game, the second Rick is wearing the collar, every time and space frame he may have disappears and there is only Daryl, his lover his master, his owner or, when he isn't here, the strong arousal he's made sure Rick is feeling before he goes away.

Rick knows that some dogs, actual dogs, can stay several hours without their masters and do so regularly, some everyday. And if dogs can do it, so can Rick. Except it's the hardest thing Rick has ever had to do. Be naked like this, collared tightly so he never forgets who he belongs to, who'll be there to comfort him, when _he_ _is here_ , to feel their connection so strongly and yet be alone. That's the hardest part of any game.

He needs Daryl. Needs his voice, his hands, his eyes on him... More than anything in those moments, what Rick wants is his master's praise. And the pleasure he'll give Rick if he can just be a good pup like he's been told but....

Not today. Today it's impossible, he can't and he wordlessly curses himself for it, growling around where he is biting his own arm trying to resist his sexual impulses. He's curled up on himself on the carpet right by the couch, rocking desperately but every bust of air on his back or brush of the harsh carpet fabric on his side sends sparks of pleasure down his spine, up to the tip of his still very much aching, very much leaking cock.

The show Daryl is given when he enters the house exactly five hours and twenty-seven minutes after he left already makes it hard to stay in character.

Rick is dry humping one arm of the couch, small whines of pleasure escaping his lips at the same time as tiny droplets of tears run away from his closed eyes. 

His hair is the most messy he's seen it since that last time he tied Rick upside down and his body is glistening with sweat. One side of his face is pressed to the back of the couch with the way he is leaning down over the armrest, his cock trapped between the leather and his own stomach, his ass facing Daryl in such an obscene way that the man has to cover the moan escaping him reflexively. 

He coughs with the force of his desire but Rick is so out of this world, so into his arousal-driven frenzy that he doesn't hear anything. He doesn't hear Daryl's  sharp intake of breath, doesn't hear his feet padding across the room, thumping on the carpet behind him. He just keeps rutting against the couch and Daryl doesn't think he's ever been so drawn to the other man before.

But then again, he tells himself that everyday.

Leaning down, Daryl covers Rick slowly with his body, one hand grasping the back of the couch just above Rick's head. He bows down to the man's ear, talking against his sweat-slick curls.

“Stop.” 

Rick startles. His eyes shot open and he goes to straighten up but Daryl's quicker than him. One of his hands fly up to Rick's hair, fists tight in his curls, the other going flat over an ass cheek. The tease of what's to come.

Rick's chest heaves with too much. Too many sensations tangled with way too many emotions. He tries to turn his head around, to catch Daryl's eyes but he can't. He can't because his owner's hand is holding him solidly in place and because he's scared now, scared of the disappointment he'll see there. 

He wasn't a good boy. He didn't control himself. He nearly came right here right there and Daryl knows and he saw and he's disappointed in him, maybe even mad.

He sags back down against the couch, wincing at the feeling of his cock, raw from dragging repeatedly against the slick leather and its sewing lines.

“Good,” Daryl says in his ear and the tone of finality Rick can hear there makes him shiver, “You know what's comin’ now, don't you? You know what happens when you can't behave yourself?” and Rick knows, knows it so well, and he shouldn't be thrilled, he shouldn't want this, not now. Still, there's no helping how is ass is already feeling all tingly from the mere thought of bearing the marks he deserves.

He wants to nod but doesn't. He whines instead and is rewarded by the sound of a harsh-breathed Daryl moaning softly against his nape, the feeling of his cock, trapped in his jeans but nonetheless pressing against Rick's bare ass and making the cop whine even louder.

Daryl straightens up then and he can see tension in Rick's every muscle, already preparing himself for what he knows is happening, now. 

His wrist twists and his fingers get an actual handle out of Rick's hair, pulling till his husband sits on the armrest before going to his collar and tugging, sudden and violent, till Rick is back to his hands and knees on the floor. 

“Stay.” 

Daryl retrieves the leash from where it is hung for everyone to see: by the door, next to the key rack.

He clasps it in the ring of Rick's collar, avoiding any eye contact with him. He knows Rick needs it, he also knows he needs the punishment just as bad, or he'll blame himself and start calling himself weak again. He needs the reassurance, the righting of his wrong at the hand of his husband and Daryl will give it to him, just as he always does.

He tugs on the leash and doesn't allow Rick’s brain anytime to get on board with the plan before he moves, quickly. He ends up dragging him by the leash and he can just picture the tears already back to falling down Rick's eyes. Relief, already. 

They get into their playroom and Daryl lights up every light before coming back to Rick. 

“You know the way, you know where I want you so go. Show me you're not a lost cause.” Daryl says, and he is still not looking the man in the eye, he's not even facing him. He is picking out a whip: a black flogger, Rick's favorite.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl follows the other man's form as he gets situated in front of the end of the bed, hands and knees still and head bowed. Shame. His cheeks are rose with it and his whole body seems taught. 

When Daryl approaches him from behind Rick lets out a little plaintive sound.

“Shhh...come on now, we'll make it all better, we always do, don't we?” 

Rick only bows his head lower and Daryl sighs. “Alright, let's make a good boy out of you again.”

First Daryl kneels behind Rick, puts the flogger down and caresses the other man’s sides. He needs to warm him up to that particular toy and they both know it so Daryl just ignores the complaining huff Rick gives him.

And he spanks, one, two, three times, adding more and more strength to it, alternating from one cheek to the other, to Rick's crack and his thighs, even his balls although with gentler strikes.

When he sees splotches of light red come alive beneath his palms Daryl stands back up and goes to the bed. He sits right in front of Rick's head, the whip in one hand while the other goes to grip his husband's chin and lift it to finally,  _ finally _ , stare into the blue of his eyes. 

“Here we go, baby. Gonna make you my good good boy again, right?” Daryl's voice is almost a murmur but it does wonders to soothe the creaks on Rick's forehead and for a small, fleeting second, his character breaks and he nods, determined and Daryl nods back, smiling. 

That's all they need to get to the real part of this, the strike of leather against Rick's tender flesh, and for that, they have their own ritual when Rick is collared: he buries his face in Daryl's crotch. Rick finds his comfort from both the sweet-musky scent of his husband's arousal and the sharp-stingy sparks shattering the memory of his failure into nothingness. 

It won't last long, they both know it. For one because Daryl, even though his more sadistic side is fascinated with leather, can never enjoy using it on Rick for too long and two because Rick is going to need more cuddling than paddling today, the shine of his eyes is blatant in telling of its cravings.

“All right sweet sweet thing.” Daryl says. He threads his fingers in Rick's hair while his other hand wraps around the handle of the flogger. And he strikes. And Rick moans, drools over Daryl's crotch.

“That's one.”

And he strikes again, the leather ends flying in every direction as they cut through the air and spank spank spank.

Rick's moans come in harsher and harsher and at one point, Daryl is not sure if the man is not choking himself with how much he is pressed against him but he lets Rick do as he pleases before he gives him one final slap and withdraws the toy away from his husband's eyes, under the bed.

“Cmere, baby,” Daryl goes to gather Rick in his arms, lifting him without much effort and being careful not to use any of the man's sensitive parts as leverage. “You did so good, I'm so proud of you, so so proud of my good, perfect boy.” 

Rick is openly sobbing down his neck and Daryl tightens his arms around him. “Gonna lie you down now,” Daryl says and when Rick's sobs only get louder he adds, “I'm not goin’ anywhere, I'm stayin’ with you. Gonna keep my star puppy close to me, huh?” he nuzzles Rick's hair again, “I'm so proud of you. S’okay, let it all out.”

And true to his word, Daryl doesn't part from Rick for a second, he carries him on his hip as he goes to retrieve their bottle of lotion and their thickest blanket, he carries him up the stairs and to their bedroom, to their bed. 

Daryl lies his husband down on his stomach, makes sure the blanket covers Rick's top half all the way from his waist to the very top of his neck before it becomes skull and settles on the back of his calves to apply the transparent vanilla-scented lotion they picked last Sunday, all over the red marks he just gave him. 

“So good for me, baby, my little puppy, my starlight.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Next part's menu will most probably consist of Bondage and Face-Sitting. I think, who knows?  
> I also have a little Sherle thingy in the works among other things... Stay tuned? :)  
> xoxo
> 
> Also find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hogwartstoalexandria)


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